Misery Loves Company
by Omnia Vanitus
Summary: Jet and Spike have both endured betrayal, but when the ex-cop meets the ex-syndicate, will either be able to move on?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Bright fluorescent lights flicker on, illuminating the long bleak hospital corridors. The small handful of nurses busied themselves as they preparing for the morning shift. A single janitor pushed his squeaky cart of cleaning supplies down the sterile hall, passed the many patient-filled rooms, passed the room where a certain man by the name of Jet Black lay, still slumbering deeply as the monitors beeped their monotone tune. His eyes shifted back and forth beneath his heavy eyelids, his brain playing through the happenings of the past events.

_--He was in a dark and musty ally, his adrenaline already pumping heavily in his veins. Rats scurried away, pushing battles and cans aside as they made their way to feast on newly found prey of stale bread, but Jet paid them no mind. His own prey was nearby as well, hiding in the shadows of an old worn down warehouse, years past its prime._

_His partner, Fad, yelled out to him, saying that he would go around the side. So he and his partner separated, and he went on alone. Jet continued on down the ally, finding a large rusted door that was partially cracked open. He slammed the door wide open, his gun raised as his eyes swept over the large empty warehouse. Empty save for one other man._

_Standing in the center of the room was a tall, thin black man. An assassin who had found himself on the payroll of the leading crime syndicate, known as the Red Dragon._

"_Udai Taxim! You are under arrest," Jet yelled. No sooner had he had uttered that simple phrase, did a blinding light turn on from above. He covered his eyes with his left arm, trying to shield himself from the maddening glare. His stomach lurched and dread became his new companion. He had been set up; and the last thing he remembered was the rain of gunfire and blood.--_

So, here we are now, in this scantily decorated hospital room with flecks of 'get well' flowers and cards offering sympathy for the room's only occupant, the shattered remnants of a once proud agent of the ISSP. A man now forever scarred by treachery's cruel hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or the character thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Rain beat down, ebbing away at the dirt and grime that had once thought to be forever etched in the corroded streets and byways. The dark apartment was illuminated only by the hollow light of the flickering streetlamps from down below. A wilted rose stood weeping on the windowsill. Delicate shadows danced on its withered petals, shadows created by the raindrops that trickled down the dirty glass pane. Two shadowed figures stood huddled together, locked in their final embrace, their final kiss.

"Come with me," he pleaded again, but to no avail.

"I'm staying here."

"You mean with him, don't you." It had been decided, he was going to leave the syndicate which had become too corrupt and greedy, even for an organized crime regime such as the Red Dragon. Even Vicious, his once long-time friend and comrade had, as well, become too blood thirsty. Yes, there was a time when he could have counted on Vicious as his ally, but this was before her. And now, like so many other friendships gone to past, theirs had been caste aside for the favor of a woman, his angel from hell, his demon from heaven, his Julia. "Why? Why stay here?"

"Because I am afraid of what will happen, of what would become of me. You know as well I as I do that no one has ever successfully defected from the syndicate. You know what happens to those who even try."

"I do."

"Then why go?"

"Because I know there is something better out there. There has to be."

"So that's it then? You'll through your life away for something that may or may not even exist? This is our lot in life, why can't you just accept that?"

"I don't want to accept i, or simple survive through a life when I can just walk away from it."

"But you can't just walk away from it. They will come after you and so will I. They will kill you."

"And you? Would you kill me?"

"Yes, I would." They turned away from each other in angry silence and frustration. Angry at themselves, each other, or perhaps even fate's meddlesome hand. "So it's settled then," she stated more than asked as she made her way towards the door.

He lowered his head and silence was he only confessed answer.

"Then till next time, Spike."

As the door closed quietly behind her, he let out an exasperated breath, collapsing onto the worn-out couch. His face fell into his hands and sat back as he carded them through his dark, shaggy hair. He pulled out a bent cigarette, lighting up just the flickering streetlamp expired and a withered petal struck the warped ledge. The burning embers and pale grey smoke the only thing left to ponder.


End file.
